Bright Young Things
by balsdjajdksaj
Summary: 1918-AU-London. Society? Poverty, propaganda, flapper girls. A guerrilla war rages. Bella is saved by Edward-a revolutionary-and a vampire. She joins them, Cullens leading, as they embark on a lifechanging, threatening political journey, living love.
1. Right Turns Ending

THE TRAIN ROLLED INTO THE PLATFORM and I laid eyes upon my new surroundings. The busy station was filled to the brim, commuters en route to their prospering businesses mixed in with men stricken by poverty, sitting desperately for spare change and scraps of kindness. To look up was to look at iron latticing over facets of window pane, beyond which London smog took resident. Small cafes littered the walls of Liverpool Station and I felt my mouth salivate at the smell of fresh coffee and dough baking.

An instructor slouched idly on a wooden bench, his head covered in a cap and hanging to his side. He was apparently dozing before he heard the whistle of the train's arrival. The engine had carried tens of people from Canterbury, me included.

The sound provoked a reaction in him and he promptly woke up, strutting to the first cabin at the station. He methodically unlocked the compartments, beginning from the one situated behind the driver. As he worked, I gathered my bags and firmly placed my plain black cloche hat upon my brown curls.

Fatigue hit me as I removed myself from the seat which my body had moulded to for several hours. I lowered myself gently out of the carriage, knowing that my clumsiness could be incredibly unpredictable at times, and made a mental note that once I had retrieved myself from the throng of human bodies attempting to get themselves away from the platform, I would check the time. I knew there was a large, art-nouveau style clock-face somewhere, probably situated above the exit. In a city such as London, timing was of the essence and demanded it be heeded too.

The fact that I was a Kentish girl was neither here nor there; I was not oblivious to the curfews that were heavily enforced upon the City of London as of late. Of course I also understood why, exactly, they were necessary. I read the newspapers, as many as I could get my hands on, in a desperate attempt to beat any naivety that might set in from living in such a distant place.

The goings-on in London failed to shock anyone.

Perhaps the only benefit of the atrocities that were occurring was the absence and pre-occupancy it caused my father; the hefty increase in dark crime meant much more work for him. The increase in his workload provided a distraction from his attention on me. Of course I loved him dearly, and partly I enjoyed the fact that he was as busy; it meant he spent less time moping about my scatter-brained mother. Yet our relationship was an awkward one, and I was fully aware that this needed to be addressed before I went to finishing school.

The clock read five minutes to eight, in the evening, and though my hunger and fatigue addled mind begged me to sit down and nourish myself, the logical part warned me about the nine o clock curfew. Reluctantly I let it dictate my actions, knowing that due to my uncertainty over where to go and little judgement towards the amount of time I had to get to my father's house it was best to make haste home.

The nine o clock curfew was looming over me.

I walked quickly out the epic, beautiful station doors, along with the crowd rushing to get back home before the curfew was up. I quickly spotted the bus stop, and reminded myself of the note Renee had given me, directing me as to how I would get from Liverpool Street to my fathers house near Broadway Market. I remembered it had mentioned the number eight bus just in time to jump on one which would have passed me by.

After paying for my ticket, I stumbled wearily to the top deck of the iconic red bus. Judging from my fellow travellers clothes, I concluded the general consensus that the number eight did not lead into the wealthiest of neighbourhoods. I recognized some trendy but somewhat poor flapper girls, dark hair short and styled in tight curls under their bonnets. They smoked cigarettes daintily out the window and flirted with the men accompanying them. Two pretty young things that subconsciously I was worried about, and intrigued towards their circumstances.

Peeling my eyes away from the pair, I focused upon the street so far below my eye-level. The streetlamps were placed so far apart that there was barely enough light extending from them for me to make sense of my surroundings fully. The months were fast approaching winter, therefore, despite the lamps; dark shadows were cast through the mist and gloom of the slummy city. I saw enough to find poverty and despair; so obvious from the smashed windows of the shops. The glass made a glittering, lethal carpet for folk too poor to be entitled to any house other than this street I travelled over. Prostitutes, desperate and resigned to sex slavery, huddled together around street corners, like scantily clad vultures. They did even look provocative, or corny. They looked cold.

During the long bus journey I struggled to stay awake, fearing the safety of myself and my possessions if I was to slip from consciousness. The voyage seemed arduous and ridiculously stretched out; for no apparent reason, the streets still insisted upon being controlled by traffic lights. Legal limits upon time were in action for the evening and therefore all cars had evacuated the roads, emptying them. In streets like these, traffic lights were becoming an annoying necessity; simply delaying the laborious ride further.

My head began to flop down, and it took a lot of strength to pull it back up again. Forcing myself awake seemed pointless as my head just flopped down once more. Keeping my head up turned into such a struggle that I forgot where I was in the journey; when I looked out of the window I panicked.

The district outside the bus' window seemed very unfamiliar; I felt tentative and immediately on edge. Glancing around the now deserted bus seats with rapidity, the dull anxiety rose within me. I gathered my belongings and scampered down the stairs, to the bus driver.

"Excuse me sir, but I would just like to ask, where are we?" I mumbled quickly. He gestured for me to speak up by cupping a hand to his ear, his eyes never once leaving the road. "I said I'm sorry that I am interrupting you, sir," I spoke with more diction than before, "but I was wondering where we are?"

And with that, he nodded to signal he had heard me, but instead of replying, he pointed to a sign. I was incredibly annoyed to read the words: 'Do not speak to the driver when the bus is in motion.' I could have, and to tell the truth would have liked to scream at that very moment. I pulled the bell to show I wanted to leave the bus, and shortly it pulled into a stop.

I reconsidered my actions for a quick split-second before the doors swung open and my legs lead the way into the cold, misty air. Looking around, I saw a moderately middle-class region, and felt a little less anxious, yet nothing could slow my heart beat, racing due to concern.

Deciding there was nothing to do bar walk until I found someone, to ask where we were and if they knew how to get to Broadway Market from here, I set off. The misty air made it hard for me to identify street names or faces, but I hurried off the main road where the bus had left me, onto a smaller road where terrace houses faced each other. I could tell they were around fifty years old and looked remarkably like slum houses, although the only thing defining them from being that was the perfect wrought iron fences and in-tact windows. I walked past them quickly, seeing that at the bottom of the street was a small alleyway to the right, which opposed a larger street. The small alleyway seemed to run between two terraces, and I wondered if they could speak to each other through the windows.

As I walked past that one house, slightly more dilapidated than the rest, I knew exactly what it was. I would not disclose it to my thoughts and did not dwell upon it, yet the concept of the place scared me. I knew a social revolution was undergoing; however, I never thought it could be for anything other than heightening morals. I made the mistake of hurrying past, aggravating two horrible dogs, who strained on their collars; threatening me if I wished to move any closer. They were stocky and strong looking; dribble pooling from their bared teeth, and that sight in the context was enough for me to be scared into making a bad decision, wishing to put enough space between myself and the two horrible creatures as possible.

Without a thought, I turned to the left.


	2. Masked

As soon as I had turned the corner into the alleyway, I dropped my luggage to the cobbled floor and pressed my back against the grimy brick wall, steadying myself. I had never been one to like dogs; I found their way of jumping up a little annoying, and their nature of barking aggravated me. However, those two canines had seemed so intimidating it was as if they wanted to attack me, wanted to rip me apart, shred by shred. I was already so frightened to be out in London after the curfew, but to have these dogs pounce upon me was too much.

I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on how I would sort myself out. Standing in an alleyway in an area so uncertain to a person is hardly a good situation to be in. Considering my options, I wondered if there was an inn nearby, and how I would find it. I had some money, and I could always ask Charles to pay me back later. In the worst case scenario, I could always knock upon one of the houses in the morning, and just sit out the duration of the night somewhere. I supposed there must be a pub open until late, although the punters might think me something I certainly was not, if I went there until closing time, so unaccompanied.

I stared at the wall once I had peeled my eyes open. The stone was a dark and grimy one, and moss grew at the bottom and in-between the bricks, along with the concrete that filled those dents. Something caught my eye.

Like a paint splatter, red blood was splashed against the dark wall.

As my worried thoughts consumed me, I heard a door open and a delicious perfume drifted towards me, inviting me forward. I opened my eyes, and turned my head towards where I had heard the door open.

The air was forced out of my lungs immediately. My eyes locked as I was too scared to even blink. Blindly cursing and panicking inside my head, praying and wishing I had not ventured down the alleyway. I wished I could have gone back, just that short moment in time, before I had encountered the dogs, and pelted as fast as I could down the pathway. I willed myself back to the safety of a main road. Any main road. My blood went cold as I stared into the crimson eyes of what I knew could be the end. The end of my existence.

"Vampire." I whispered as my eyes locked with his.

The doorway of the house which owned the two frightening dogs was his passage to the corridor we both occupied. He stood with his hands crossed, hips jutting outwards arrogantly. Dressed dandily in a fair-isle knit jumper layered underneath a double-breasted suit, the lapel revealing a dark tie and crisp white shirt, he looked like every other dapper man on the high street. But to look upon his face was to look upon something so perfect it should be angelic, but the angry red eyes stained his image with an overpowering taint of evil. I had no breath to utter the words the government had advised us to use; "Please Count, are you really so hungry?" was a phrase used so commonly among their posters that it stuck in mind even in this situation. The vampire on them was portrayed as wearing a cloak, blood trickling down melodramatically long, sharp, ivory white teeth. Eyes outlined with black makeup, no more than a clown, poking jokes, ridiculing the reality.

It seemed ridiculous now that the government had convinced us to be scared of those 'vampires'. Surely they knew what they really looked like; perhaps they had chosen deliberately to hide it from us, a strange concept. If we could know what vampires looked like, we could attempt to stay away from them, a glimmer of hope would at least be there, and we could trust in our government. I now realised how much we had been conned; those figures could kill no man, and that's why people were not scared of them. The beautifully evil man was composed and very still in front of me.

My head reeled. Although terror surged deep in my gut, something compelled me to move closer, and my laced boots unruly forced my body towards him.

His smell could compare with no other. It contained millions of different fragrances. Pine. A pine forest after the rain had fallen. No, it was more like intoxicating rain drops which had fallen off pine trees, into a bed of lightly perfumed flowers. The scent that pulled me like a magnet to him; I could not have resisted.

Before I knew it, I was crushed to the side of the alleyway by my neck. I had no time to gasp but as I stared into his eyes my own widened, and white bubbles popped behind them from the sheer force of him. His hands put an immense pressure upon my neck with ease and it dawned on me how easily I could be broken and marled by one single blow of his powerful hands. He bent his neck to press his nose to the skin under his hands and sighed maliciously.

"Oh, darling. You smell divine." He smiled, flashing his teeth, and I thought it was all over. Luckily he pulled away, with a somewhat pained expression on his face, and turned to the open door. At the mention of the name "Victoria", I assumed she was there. Her beautiful face was framed by shockingly red ringlets, yet it was filled with evil. Her eyes matched her hair for a split second, and as they rested upon me they grew black. She dressed in an off-white crepe dress, which was creamier in colour than her skin. It was a drop waist, and had a red flower garnish at her hips; she also wore a scarf loosely tied around her neck, all the same shade as her hair. The contrast between the pallor of her perfect complexion and the dark eyes was unnerving. She cast a glance at me and smiled, baring her teeth, which from underneath a growl erupted. With that, she crouched down, and the man backed away.

I didn't register that I could have run at this point, but the notion would have been pointless in the situation. I knew soon either Victoria or her accomplice would have me killed soon, and running might provoke them. Yet I was still standing moments later, although I saw the blur of bodies rush around and past me in the small alleyway, lifting my hair with them. I felt a bite on my chest; the rip of skin causing the blood to rise in droplets, then forming a pool covering the bitemarks. Only seconds later, it began to stain the gauzy overdress I was wearing. I knew the pain was yet to come, and was surprised when I was able to sink to the ground.

Either Victoria was fighting with the male vampire, or someone else was. The blurs moved so quickly that it was incredibly hard to tell, and I was in such a state of mental fragility; my eyes were clouded with apprehensive tears. Even through that, my vision saw that the two smudges had been joined; apparently, the numbers had doubled. My whole body convulsed with shakes and I felt as if there was a fire in my chest. The wound throbbed, impulses of sheer heat pulsing through my veins. The pain was like hell itself, and I knew I was dying and soon I would converse with the devil. I cried to myself, crouched low on the ground. I noticed that I was bleeding all over the pavement.

So this was it. Either the vampire venom would turn me into a Count just like them, or one of them would have the nobility to come and finish me off. I tore my eyes away from the gaping wound to the dissipating scene in front of me.

The male vampire and Victoria had scampered away, and two more came towards me. They probably were coming to finish me off. Even in this situation the two looked odd; if they hadn't been running just as fast and had the strength to battle with the others, I wouldn't have known they were vampires. Both wore Venetian masks, covering their faces, but the illusion concealing what they looked like only scared me more. As they approached me calmly, I tried with all the life that was left in me to plead with my eyes; begging them not to take my life from me. The taller and older of the pair nodded, as if taking place inside of an internal conversation. I stayed conscious long enough to witness the other bend down, and place a cold hand behind my neck. He brought my body up to his waiting mouth, gently and silently.

With that, I died.


	3. Initiation

Tremendously confusing, I thought to myself as I peered into the elaborate gold mirror.

My naked form was nothing out of the ordinary. My straight hair hit my back at the same place it usually took residence, and it was the same tone as it was day-to-day. All of my toes, and their nails, pearly and dainty, were intact. My skin retained the same pale complexion, and my flesh was distributed as it usually was.

But what of this retched mask upon my face?

I goaded myself that perhaps, as persuasion seeped into me, that just perhaps, if I were to tear the mask gently away from my face, it would come off fully. I peeled it off my face delicately, unlocking the knot at the back of my head that held it in place. My shoulders slumped as I felt another knot take its place almost simultaneously, at the split second the two ties had been disjointed, although I still had the previous strands between my fingers. Sighing, I pulled the task away gently from my face, and with frustration, threw it to the floor.

It bounced off one of the other theatrical facades lightly and rolled to a standstill. I watched it settle in with the other dozens of its kind; different colours, textures, and shapes, moulded together upon the carpet.

Tearing my eyes away, I brought them to my own, staring back in the mirror, echoing the hard edge of frustration I felt.

I ripped the mask from my face, tearing the strings, and subsequently ripped its replacement off as well. I divulged the masks; my hands clawing at my substitute face, tearing them off violently. Euphoria filled my lungs, and masks began to pile at my feet.

All of a sudden, I snapped out of the trance-like state. My lungs rose up and down wildly, and I looked around the room. Masks lay in piles, all around me. I was exhausted; so out of breath I worried that I may faint. How many hours had I been removing masks for?

As I drifted back into consciousness, the Venetian masks rose a few feet in the air, and gathered around my body. They pulled me through dark streets like butterflies, clustering around my form, and brought me to a house. Gently, they laid me down on the bed, leaving me to regain consciousness.

Mentally, I checked myself; determining that all arms and legs were attached, although there was a weighted feeling residing in them, causing an uncomfortable stiffness. The heaviness of my limbs was not helped by the load of bed-covers engulfing my frame, causing a stifling heat. The temperature was hopefully the cause of my odd dream. In the bedcovers, I was so roasting that my veins felt as if they had inflated; areas dense in veins almost ached with protrusion. I was yet to open my eyes, and the events from the night before coursed through my mind, provoking my body to go rigid with fear, keeping my eyelids clenched shut.

I was certain about my humanity. Air circulated through my lungs and out my nose due to necessity, not preference. Thinking of blood still disgusted me, as did a mental image of my blood seeping freely through a bite-sized gash in my chest. The metallic smell revolted me, causing bile to rise in my throat.

Eyes lost to body in the race of movement; my figure bolted upright, jolting hand to mouth. My stomach churned, pulsing without regard to my surroundings. I leaned over the wrought-iron bed frame and spat out a few acidic mouthfuls pathetically.

Feeling light-headed with guilt and embarrassment, my face looked up from the bile splattered floor to an intensely good looking man, with brilliant topaz eyes. I connected them with my own. Gently, he reached towards my shoulders, pushing me back from the side of the bed, lowering me back under the covers with his hand on my back. Naturally, I blushed. The situation was not just ridiculous; it was painfully inappropriate. An older man touching me, an un-married young lady clad only in a negligee, carefully lowering her shaken body into a comfortable position, on a bed. Although his actions were accomplished in a clerical manner, the events were made excruciating by his painfully attractive face, and, to my embarrassment, digestive fluid on the floor, which had spewed from my own mouth. Totally paralysed, I was unable to do anything but blush; words left, rendering me abhorrently speechless.

"Excuse me, Miss. I am terribly sorry if that was deemed inappropriate. However, I am a qualified doctor." With that statement, he smiled, his lips showcasing effervescently white pearls gleaming behind them. I was shocked to discover someone so beautiful and young was a doctor; I had thought that jobs like that were only carried out by old men, beer bellies in tow. "Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Dr. Carlisle Cullen, and if there is anyway I can assist me, do not hesitate to ask. I think your reaction," he said carefully, whilst his head nodded towards the floor, "as you woke up, was due to Shock Syndrome. I will do my best to aid you, and if you need any help, I would be much obliged."

I hardly dared my voice to speak, although in some small part of my mind, diction persevered. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Carlisle Cullen. My name is…" The uncertainty of my own name, at that time, brought a blush to my cheeks, as I scoured the corners of my mind in search of it. "Miss Isabella Swan. I feel awful about the floor, please accept my apology."

"Now Miss Isabella, I will not hear of it!" His voice peaked towards the end of his phrase, yet it still contained a calm and soothing tone, which allowed a few moments for us both to sit silent and allow thoughts to consume us.

I took that time to look around, as I had barely time to acknowledge my surroundings beforehand. To my abhor, the walls appeared somewhat grimy and antiqued; predominately Victorian wallpaper covered them patchily, as in several areas placed quite frequently around the room, it had ripped away, revealing different layers of paint and plasterwork scruffily.

Walls aside, the room was furnished delicately. Dark wrought iron complimented the beech floorboards perfectly, bringing depth to the light colours of the woodwork, which brightened the otherwise sombre black metals. A large window hosted a vase of white freesias, and from it, a city street was viewable. As the floor and the furniture had compared, the purity of the fragile petals contrasted with the bustle and grime of working-class life effectively, lending magnificence to something potentially dangerous. The bedside table sitting next to me held one lonesome flower, its elegance surviving its isolation. The sight of it, in the dainty porcelain cup, brought a smile to my face.

My eye was drawn to another tear on the wall behind the blossom. The wallpaper was printed soberly with bouquets, which were made ever the more morose when confronted with the three-dimensional beauty of the freesia.

"The wallpaper is William Morris. Dreadfully tattered, isn't it?" He ran his fingers over that very slash. I nodded, disregarding the rhetorical nature of the question, causing him to look from the wall to my face with a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"I think it's lovely." Praying the white lie wasn't very obvious, I stuttered on the last word. My acting skills were appallingly translucent, and my real opinion was perhaps made obvious by the attempt at deception. "Although, I do find myself wondering where I am?"

Dr Cullen rose from his crouched position, and trod over to the window. Studying the people outside, he retorted, "Whitechapel's Siege Street." He closed his eyes. "I and my son Edward, located you on the street opposing a row of tenant houses, not too far from here. I am unsure if you remember the incident, but when we discovered you, we found you in a terrible state. Have you forgotten?"

As the events of the night before were truly relived, my eyes widened. This Doctor had found me; whilst wearing a mask. I could just delve deep enough into my memory to uncover that one of the saviours had blonde hair, emulating the golden locks of the one who approached me, after the red-haired female had. It was his partner, or son as it were, who had bitten me a second time.

Panic overcame me. Where could his son be? I was concerned about my whereabouts-Siege Street was a name I had never encountered previously. As it dawned on me that the Doctor, standing so close, was a blood-thirsty vampire, tears pricked in my eyes. I feared my life as sheer terror coursed through my heated veins, my head pounding vividly. Dr Carlisle walked towards me, mouthing incomprehensible words in a soothing tone. I was oblivious to him.

A slamming door and footsteps, however, I was not. I repressed an urge to scream, and between pants, exclaimed, "Excuse me, Dr, but honestly, where on earth are we? Whitechapel, yes I do understand where that is. But please… Who are you, and why did you feel the urge to bring me here?"

"Miss Isabella," his voice attracted my attention, as it was now slightly raised and urgent, "please do not get yourself into a panic. Your father has fallen under unfortunate circumstances, so we took you in for the night. Provided you have a place satisfactorily secure and safe, you are free to leave, but I emphasize that your presence is most welcome in this house, and all shall be provided for you if you were to take up residence here."

"Last night, a vampire known as James bit you. You may notice a silvery, glittering scar upon your chest. The venom, which threatened to turn you into a vampire, was removed by my son; there was apparently some confusion, and you might have believed him to be biting you. That is not the case, as you remain a- -albeit ill- -human girl, who for the time being is in my care, at least until your health returns."

"I withstand a family of seven. I have a beautiful wife named Esme, and two delightful daughters, Alice and Rosalie. They have both married; men named Jasper and Emmett, and I am lucky enough to have them all live here. I also have a son named Edward, and he is the man who took the courtesy of draining the venom from your blood this morning. There will be plenty of time for you to meet my family when you feel well enough too."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr Carlisle. But what of your diet?" I cut in with most unladylike fashion, wild with anticipation and dread.

"There is no need for trepidation, young Isabella. I am proud to say that my family and I, although we are all vampires, sustain ourselves upon a diet consisting of animal blood. None of us hunt humans, although it is tempting for some. Long after I had been hunting animals, I became immune to the rapture of human blood. Jasper, unfortunately, still finds controlling his appetite hard, but he is a determined chap and is yet to quench that thirst. Have you any more questions?"

I looked into his beautiful amber eyes, so serene and full of love. Different to the ones belonging to James and Victoria. I wondered, trivially, why that might be. "At this present moment in time, I am not aware I host any queries. I would like to meet your family, and I feel obliged to thank Edward." I said, glancing towards the parts of my body that were visible before disappearing under soft bed linen. "However, I shall need to wash and change first."

"That can be arranged. My daughter Alice has prepared a dressing-room and wardrobe for you, and we have running water in the house. Would you like me to fetch Alice to show you the clothes, whilst I run you a bath?"

"I would thank you, Dr Carlisle."

He glided out of the room, whilst chuckling silently to himself. I had merely seconds to gather myself to a standing position before Carlisle entered again, forgetting vampires abilities regarding speed.

"Alice, this is Isabella. She would like to be shown her wardrobe, if you will."

I looked behind Dr Carlisle's shoulder, revealing a tiny vampire: she must have been less than five foot. Her build, I noticed, as she moved towards me elegantly, was slight and delicate. Her skin looked as if it were made from porcelain; her entire demeanour seemed just as delicate. She had eyes the brilliant colour of topaz, akin to her fathers, and they beamed at me, a smile dancing on her wiry lips. She sported the most beautifully cut outfit, origami folds protruding from a fur-lined coat. A traditional Japanese stencil print was scattered on it, and the dress tied in a single oval brooch. Rich oranges and creams set off her pallor which contrasted with her dark hair, tied up and kept by a single silver yarn. It was as if this little being were straight off a page from a magazine. "Oh Bella, darling! I am terribly glad you're here. We are going to have quite a lot of fun my dear!"

Her voice dripped with excitement, her words were hastened with it. She beamed at me, entwining her wiry arm around mine, marching me out of the room. Her presence lifted me as if I were riding upon the back of a butterfly, flapping its wings gently as it trailed off into the clouds, delicate and lightly. I instantly felt at ease with the tiny girl, and most strain from earlier had left me.

We walked through well lit but narrow corridors, twisting left and right. It was as if I were waltzing; Alice, although petite, leading me in a dance through the hallways.

Finally, our sashay was halted. It was a small room, a wardrobe overbearing it by dominating the space. Alice reached towards the mahogany dresser, which was faceted with mirrors. As I caught myself in them, I blushed furiously.

I was barely dressed; the only garment covering my body was the tiniest of nightgowns; if I was to take the bathrobe off, my arms would have been bare. It was nothing but a negligee, layered underneath a straight-cut velvet over-coat. Although it was very pretty; a sheath of the palest blue silk, tied with the most delicate lace, I immediately felt abashed, and pink rose to my cheeks.

"Dear me, Bella! There is no need to get flustered. I shall pick you an outfit whilst Carlisle runs you a bath." The excited tone had yet to leave her voice. "Those clothes you came in were dreadfully plain. Don't worry, there is a vast expanse of clothes, and if anything here doesn't suit your fancy, my wardrobe is yours!" I looked from her tentative smile to the wooden dresser, which aptly heaved with items of clothing. "Would you like me to pick, or might you feel more comfortable if you would?"

I understood the uncertainty in her voice, as when I told her she could pick for me, she burst into frenzy. Somewhere from the chaotic mess, a deep purple dress which gathered under the bust was extracted, from which followed yet again another coat. The one pushed into my arm was dark in colour and made from crepe, with an interesting collar fashioned from black and purple silk. The outfit was conservative enough to kindle to my preferences, but also looked as if it would showcase my body.

"I shall hang these up in the bathroom; you may change into them after you have finished washing. I will have your accessories ready for when you emerge." Her voice was childish and endearing, forcing me to forget the imperative means of the sentence and return her naïve smile. "Bella, we really are going to be good friends. After you've lunched, shall we take a walk outside? There is a nice enough park for strolls and little cafes or boutiques, whichever takes your fancy. Bear in mind the latter is my favourite."

"It sounds lovely Alice." I beamed, although shopping was hardly my favourite activity. "Will I have a chance to introduce myself to the rest of the Cullen's beforehand?" Her nods lead into a turn, and with a pull on my hand, walls sped by, until I found myself in a bathroom. A large window had lace pulled in front of it, for privacy, and a zinc tub sat to one side, filled with invitingly steamy water. I could barely wait for my new-found friend to leave so I could be submerged in its warm embrace. As if she had read my mind, she turned away, looking back to smile sweetly, saying "Just call if you need anything. There are soaps and washing things just there."

I took my clothes off hurriedly, folding them onto a little stool. Sighing, I felt human and at ease as I slipped into the welcoming liquid.


	4. No Caricature

I covered my pale body in a soapy lather, the moisture curling my hair into black, snake-like tendrils. Bubbles rose as I splashed, frolicking in the water. The childish behaviour was perhaps a reaction to the anxiety I had faced before hand. I took a deep breath inwards, the pleasingly sweet smell reminding me of where I was. I rose from the bath, reaching for a towel as my feet found the softly carpeted bathroom floor.

Scrubbing my scalp with the towel, I hoped to dry it quickly. I was confident that the rest of the Cullen's must be good people; Alice and Carlisle seemed so friendly, causing me to anticipate meeting the others. A smile danced on my lips, and I reached for a toothbrush.

As I dried my body off, goose bumps replaced water. I began to shiver, and reached towards the undergarments, hung on a small banister. I slipped them on, and the rich purple dress followed. Happily I saw a fur stole, and slung it around my shoulders, placing the beautiful coat over it. I pulled on a pair of stockings, only to discover Alice had not laid out any shoes. I was forced to open the bathroom door and brace the corridors barefoot; luckily, I found myself quickly met by an over-excited sprite.

"Did you enjoy your bath? I do hope you have , I've simply been waiting ages! The dress looks lovely, it really suits you. Here," she leant towards me, placing a pair of shoes in my arms, "put these on." Once I had buckled them up, she took my hand. "Do come and see everyone. They have been simply dying to meet you!"

I followed her lead down a boxy staircase. It took a ninety-degree turn, and the fraction of wall above it hosted another window, overlooking a courtyard fringed with deep crimson roses, which set off pale carnations. Walls, which had the potential to look menacing, were instead littered with climbing ivies and small pink flowers. A grey stone birdbath was partially hidden behind an old, tall tree, which also had creepers growing up it. The thought of the organic beauty radiating from the petals and leaves continued to make a faint smile appear on my lips as I walked down the stairs, into the room filled with vampires.

I was dumbstruck by the beautiful faces politely gazing at me. They were gathered around a dark wooden coffee table, in what appeared to be a kitchen. I would have laughed; the thought of what a family of vampires needed an oven for provoked humour from inside of me, but before I could make one sound, Carlisle spoke.

"May I introduce Miss Isabella Swan, who is gracing our presence today after a series of fateful events." He looked from me to his family with a warm grin on his face. A woman with coiffed brown hair lifted elegantly from her chair, and held my shoulders in her hands, smiling through motherly lips.

"Hello Isabella, my name is Esme and I am very pleased to meet you. Welcome to our home. Here, take a seat." One hand moved from my elbow to gesture towards a vacant seat. "Is there anything I can get you?"

I smiled faintly and shook my head, although I took her up on the offer of a seat. Gently placing my bottom upon the chair, eager not to make a fool of myself, I bit my lip unconsciously.

"Bella, this is Rosalie and Emmett." Alice beamed at me, whilst pointing out the pair. Rosalie was perhaps the most beautiful woman I had ever seen; outshining even Esme and Alice. Her skin was almost pearlescent in the light, and her hair the bounciest of ringlets. Tendrils of it were tucked behind her ears, showcasing her feline jaw. Her nose was perfectly well-formed, and her lips looked like soft petals.

There was a stern, malicious note in her eyes, and when they met mine, they narrowed. She did not say a word, but glanced to Emmett's arm which was round her own. He straightened his back, and put his hand out to me, and I placed mine in his. "Lovely to meet you, Bella." He shook my fingers with great force, and I noticed his huge and muscular frame. However, his eyes were joyful, and wore a broad smile.

Another man nodded towards me, looking slightly more bohemian and dishevelled than the others. He nodded towards me, and smiled, although it did not reach his eyes. Although he was dressed immaculately, his hair looked slightly un-kept.

"This is Jasper." Alice said, love plainly showing through the velvet tones of her voice. I understood why he looked so nervous about my being across from him, as Carlisle had explained to me earlier. "And here's Edward," she said, walking lightly across the floorboards towards the other end of the dark coffee table, "my brother." She pulled him upright, and delicately jostled him towards me.

Without glancing up, I stumbled off my seat, just missing a collision with the chair legs. My head bowed in embarrassment, I curtsied in his general direction. I glanced upwards.

His face would have put an ancient roman carving to shame; statuesquely, it was perfect. He had the singular most brilliant eyes I had ever seen, and from that day on I deemed my favourite colour to be that golden topaz which they shone. It was as if he were a god; blushing furiously, I realised that I had just put this Edward on a pedestal, emulating the behaviour carried out by dozens of girls, most of whom I found myself mocking frequently.

"Good morning, Miss Bella. It is a pleasure to fully meet you." His eyes never seemed to leave my face, almost as if they were transfixed. Mentally I scorned myself for such thoughts; why would Edward-who had me truly dazzled-even notice a little girl as plain as I? These thoughts, from that day on, were to be fully grounded in my mind. My own pair of eyes found themselves fascinated with something on the floor. If I allowed myself to merely glance once more at his golden irises, would they ever leave his gaze?

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Cullen." I scoffed inwardly at my words. As if 'nice' could compare to this image of perfection.

I gave myself one last chance, and looked up towards him, my muddy brown eyes hidden abashedly behind my heavy eyelashes, the sight of him causing me to exhale in sheer relief. To my dismay, he turned away from me, wrinkling his nose. I noted his balled fists, held stiffly at his sides.

Once I had been acquainted with the rest of the Cullens, I saw fit to leave the presence of Edward, who obviously was repelled by me. Willingly, Alice took me to an independently-run teashop, situated off a main road whose edges were littered with expensive boutiques. We were surrounded by aristocratic members of the public in the dimly lit café, where small talk and cigarettes reigned alongside delicate chinks of chinaware.

Although my surroundings were pleasant enough, I was quite disheartened by Edwards's reaction towards me. However, I understood that to him, I was simply a plain human girl, my lack of beauty accentuated by the magnificent creatures that had filled the room where we had met. I took a sip of my dry cappuccino, shoulders sagging, whilst Alice chatted pleasantly. Small-talk was inevitable between strangers, but conversing with Alice was more than pleasing. She was very insightful.

"Is everything alright, Bella?"

"Oh, of course Alice. The café is simply lovely." I took another sip from my cappuccino. "Although the coffee is dear enough, I'm afraid I have little appetite for the cake."

"That's fine; we can take it with us. Now you're here, we can go shopping for human food- and, of course- clothing for you."

I groaned inwardly at the thought of the tiny, expensive boutiques, Alice in tow. Alice, buying me multiple sets of exclusive, expensive garments. "That sounds enticing; however I was hoping to call upon an old friend, Mr. Black."

Something seized the small girl opposite of me, and she froze. Momentarily, her eyes gazed upon something very distant; as if it was not in the little café at all. She remained in that position for a few minutes, until her eyes snapped to mine and her lungs inflated. "I'm not sure…" Even when she stuttered, she did so gracefully. "Of how good an idea visiting Jacob might be."

I nodded, and tentatively finished my coffee in silence. Alice, much to my dismay, set down a few dusty pennies and the table and we set off upon our excursion. The street gently mulled with people; lazy heels clapped on the sidewalk in a relaxed, chic manner. I followed Alice's lead, which soon meant I found myself in possibly the most radical and outrageously expensive clothing shop on Bond Street.

"Here we are, dear. There's a large celebratory dance in only a few weeks time, hosted by some old family friends. You, of course, are cordially invited."

The mention of a 'dance' set my heart to hysterics. I could barely take two independent steps without making a clumsy idiot out of myself, never mind engage my dysfunctional feet in a foxtrot.

"Oh Alice, I fear that I wont be able to attend any kind of function which might require me to dance. I think you'll find I'm exceptionally clumsy; I was born with two left feet."

"Not for a minute! All you need is a great lead," She cut in quickly, a dark smile curling the corners of her mouth, "and a great outfit. Naturally." Subsequently, she began pulling dresses off hangers, piling them upon the stern-faced assistant. She worked quickly, examining the garments for a split-second before either placing them upon the others resting on the assistants arms, or dropping them to move on to the next dress. I was in a trance-like state, wandering around after her aimlessly- that is, until I felt a small hand rest above my elbow, propelling me further as an engine might.

I was guided into an airy changing room, the assistant already hanging the dresses up onto gilded bars that cut across the mirrors as a ballet rest might. Three walls were covered in mirrors; the fourth was a door which was faceted with art deco roses- very modern, fashionable- exactly what you'd expect from the place Alice shopped at.

She looked me up and down observantly, and suddenly I was submerged in a sea of fabrics as different dresses were pulled on and off me very rapidly. Only a few moments after, I found myself in the velvet dress once more- the pixies spree over. In her arms were two dresses, carefully filtered from the pile we had brought in.

"Bella," she held up one of them- its colouring was an incredibly pale mint- in her arms expectantly, "this one sets off your complexion perfectly. Do you see how it highlights the pink of your cheeks and the paleness on the rest of your face?" She held a sleeve to my face as I looked at it in the mirror, unsurprisingly she was right. "Flushing of the cheeks is very endearing." She smiled and her eyes distanced themselves once more. "But, I've decided you shall wear this dress to the dance. Now, let's pay for these and make haste for Mr. Blacks, shall we?"

I shook my head at Alice as she bought _both_ dresses, covering my eyes so as not to see the price. We were quickly out of the shop, strolling down the high street arm-in-arm like old best friends. It was a queer feeling for me, as I had never had close companions before. The feeling was almost enough that I could glow from happiness. Alice made interesting conversation, and we seemed to truly bond throughout out chatting. The only thing I found slightly unnerving came about from when, every so often, she stopped dead in her tracks for a few moments, eyes returning to that same distant place. After one of these pauses, I found the courage to ask a question which had been playing on my mind.

"Alice, what brings your family to London? And if you don't mind my asking, why are all of you under one roof?"

She answered without a pause, "You have heard of, and fallen victim to, the 'midnight massacres'" She inquired, tilting her head. I nodded confidently. "We are here to prevent the vampires engaged in those attacks."

"Have you any idea of the motives of these vampires? Many whom have dubbed the 'midnight massacres' to be out of control Counts." I sneered at the poster depicting the caricature-esque fantasy, with fangs dripping bright red blood to boot. The caption read "My Own Midnight Massacre", the footer promoting staying within the curfew.

Alice thought for a few moments before replying. "Yes, I do know why they are carrying these attacks out. However, the truth is often" She paused, her face crumpling, "murky. Unclear. If you are certain you'd like me to explain, I shall continue, of course. However, the truth is dark and complicated." Her voice was filled with remorse.

"If it ails you, Alice, lets disclose the subject for another time. However I must admit, I am intrigued."

"In that case, I feel obliged to tell you all I know."

"You surely have heard of the 'flourishing prosperity' which is our economy? Well, the money and consumer goods, and wages for the men creating them were not sourced from our government, or indeed, our economy alone."

"In fact, this money has been loaned to the British government, its source a very rich coven in Italy. However, this coven is not ordinary; they are in fact a collection of some of the most terrorizing and gifted of our kind- simply exceptionally evil vampires. They are some what of a royalty, government of us."

"Somehow, the Volturi-which is the wealthy covens name-found out about the economical depression in Britain. They offered to pay the British government for some kind of service, of which we are not sure. For a long time, the government were not either, and we think the current massacres are due to a reaction from the government over what is going on." She shrugged. "Our duty is to try and keep as many people alive, and in England, as possible. People keep disappearing, not even the important ones, who are being taken hostage. Normal people, usually women, just disappear from their homes. The government is trying to cover it up."

"That is why you should stay with us. It's simply too dangerous for a young woman like yourself to be living alone. The situation isn't helped by the fact that, Bella my dear, your father has been taken hostage."

The news literally struck the air out of my lungs, as if the whole of my upper body was constricted by the word that was 'hostage'. "Is he… safe?" I croaked informally to Alice.

"Oh doll," she squeezed my arm, "of course he is! His disposition is that of a political prisoner. We have contact with a few insiders, who keep up with the goings-on within the…" She almost stammered with the word, "confinement. He is fed all meals decently, inhabits his own cell, and plays football with the guards."

I smiled weakly, wishing my dad was with me, a mental image of Charles playing football with burly prison guards humouring me. As we walked in thoughtful silence, I developed entire teams, deciding which players were convicts and which were guards. I completely escaped from the streets around me, until Edward's face floated into my mind. I blushed at his beauty, and felt shame for his presence- even if it were just in my head. I was undoubtedly too plain for that envision of perfection.

"Well Bella, is this the house?" Alice asked inquisitively.

I looked upwards, shielding my eyes from the low sun. It was a tenant, the tattered door bringing me back to summers spent with William and Jacob. I reminisced shortly upon my friends; Jakes dark, youthful skin and cocky smile, staring towards me nonchalantly over a pack of cards. We used to play for hours, our fathers friendship making way for our own. There was a picture of the two of us standing stiffly, wearing forced smiles, resting upon my father's mantelpiece. It didn't reflect the deep companionship we had at all.

"This is it, Alice. Thank you very much for escorting me here." A smile opened my lips and pushed my cheeks up into my eyelids.

"Oh it's my pleasure! I will call for you at six o clock. Keep room for evening supper." She swiftly kissed my cheeks, and walked down the street, almost skipping.

I turned to the door and knocked my hand against the window pane rapidly, three times. From behind it, I heard heavy footfalls. My heart heaved as my eyes rested upon his face, aching for times long forgotten. I couldn't help myself but reach for his shoulders, my tiptoes teetering for balance. He had grown so tall; I worried if he had perhaps outgrown our friendship.

"Oh Jacob!" My precariously placed feet stumbled and he caught my waist.

"Now Bella. I think we should get your feet onto solid ground. I see your clumsiness is long-lived!" He exclaimed with a smile as his hand guided my own into his small house. Closing the door behind him, he exclaimed "I have missed you so."

"Let's declare the feeling mutual. My have you grown!"

We chattered happily for a few hours, our voices resonating our re-kindled friendship. I enjoyed our platonic banter, and found an out of character heaviness in my heart when the clock struck six.

"Oh," I said with a sigh, "I will be leaving very soon. But trust me; it has been lovely to meet with you again."

"Of course! Whenever you feel the urge, please come and visit me. You were not the only one enjoying your company today." A small smile spread to his face, and he stared at me intently for a few moments, his face blossoming into a grin. "Bells, you grow more beautiful every time I see you."

My face grew flushed. I'd always found Jacob endearing-in a friend like manner- yet it seemed he had always liked me quite differently. I looked away from his gaze, and relief surged through me when I heard a gentle pat on the door.

Jacob and I headed for the porch, and he opened the door wide. Standing in front of us was Alice, who appeared to have once again changed clothes, and Edward. My eyes felt as if they might melt as they looked upon his, and I couldn't help a faint smile creeping slowly onto my face. My heart began to beat double-time as he returned it. My chin, betraying my face, apparently gravitated towards him, and although it was discreet, I longed to stand by him.

"Bella." A foreign, stern quality emerged in Jacobs's voice as he pulled me back from the door. "I'm sorry. I need to have one word with Bella before _you_ take her." He hissed to the pair on the doorstep. Pulling me left, we stood in the doorway of the living room, his angry form dominating mine. "Are you truly so naïve to think they will not harm you? Bells, _please_. You come here reeking of vampire and then those monsters appear on my door. You need looking after, Bella. You are," he said in a low whisper, "too precious." His eyes shone with hurt, and he placed both his large hands on my arms, pulling me close. I didn't like the intimate proximity of our bodies, and struggled slightly from his too-firm hold on my arms, but his grip was strong. I was sure to be bruised come morning.

Edward suddenly moved into my eye line, and he let out a low hiss. "Get your hands off her, canine." He glared threateningly at Jacob who didn't flinch. I heard Alice chiding, "Bella, come on, please!"

I turned to Jacob, feeling hurt by my friend and his actions. "Jake, I need to go. Thank you for having me." His arms dropped to his sides and hung their. I awkwardly kissed his cheek, and spun round, almost running out of the house, stumbling on the cobbled pathway. My arms reached out to save myself from the fall, but I felt colder limbs catch me, pulling my body upwards. An electric shock coursed through me, causing my head to snap to his. His molten gold eyes seemed so alive they almost burnt through my own.

Then they turned dark black.


End file.
